


Pedagogy

by regalgeek



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: But hey Hecate's thoughts on being a teacher, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, There's also a touch of fluff, These Hecate Centric Character studies are a thing, for whatever reason, that I keep writing, there's a touch of angst because its Hecate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18410180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regalgeek/pseuds/regalgeek
Summary: It was easier for her, because she didn’t care what her students thought of her, could harden her heart and be as unyielding as stone if necessary. And, far too often, it was necessary.Because she did care.Or: Hecate's thoughts on teaching.





	Pedagogy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third character study of some aspect of Hecate, and honestly, I'm really enjoying them. Hopefully you enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it!

She was hardly a beloved teacher. Most of her first and second year students were terrified of her, and the older girls weren’t much better. When their tones were not tinged with worry and fright upon confronting her, or, far more likely, being confronted by her, and when they were not looking over their shoulders, double-checking to make sure she wasn’t behind them before they spoke, then she had, in all likelihood, angered the girl in question enough to overcome her fear, for the time being.

No, Hecate Hardbroom was not a beloved teacher.

She was strict and unyielding, not willing to bend or reinterpret a single rule, and handing out harsh punishments for even the most minor of infractions, be it purposeful or an accidental mishap. She did it to help the girls, of course (everything she did was to help the girls) but she supposed that she would feel more than a touch angry or spiteful too, on the other end of her inflexibility. So, she did not begrudge them their emotions and lack of understanding, so long as those emotions did not threaten to become actions.

Her colleagues found her to be too strict, at times. Her standards too exacting, her detentions too long, her refusal to let ‘accidents’ without serious consequences go to be unfair. The difference, she supposed, was that the rest of them wanted to be liked by their students. They were willing to let well-meaning mistakes go with a simple reprimand, because there was no intention to break any rules or cause any harm. They didn’t want to be seen as unfairly harsh when, accident or not, actions should still have consequences.

Part of it was also the subject matter. A small, accidental, mistake in the potions lab could easily turn into an explosion while she was still correcting another student on her technique crushing spider legs on the other side of the classroom. Even the smallest of mishaps in the potions lab could spell ruin, where there was significantly more flexibility in most other subjects. (Not to say that they were any less dangerous in their own right, there was simply less of an immediate need for precision in a chanting lesson than while brewing a potion.) 

It was easier for her, because she didn’t care what her students thought of her, could harden her heart and be as unyielding as stone if necessary. And, far too often, it was necessary. 

Because she did care. 

Everything she did, it was because she cared, because she wanted to help her students be better than they already were, because she wanted them to be better than she was, to learn their lesson before it was too late and they had caused some problem that could not be so easily fixed. And, though her heart was hardened until it was solid stone, even granite could be scoured by the elements, and even marble could be chipped. Why did they not understand that she was merely trying to push them to do better? 

Each and every one of them had limitless potential, and she refused to allow them to squander it. Every girl that passed through the halls of Cackles, under her watchful eye, had the potential to be something spectacular, and she was merely ensuring that youthful recklessness and a lack of control would not sour opportunities for them before they truly had the chance to try.

Oh, some of them got there eventually, most of the girls understood part of the reason why she was so harsh on them, why her standards were so exacting, and why she pushed them almost relentlessly, but there was none of the ease around her that they had with their other teachers. 

It was a rare student who would ever dream of confiding in Miss Hardbroom.

She often reminded herself that she taught because she wanted the girls under her care to succeed where she had failed, and that their hate for her adherence to the rules, and her demands that they follow them just as closely, meant nothing. Merely the aggravated whining of children who did not yet understand the full picture, she told herself when she felt a flicker of regret after a particularly harsh lecture, pushing the incident aside with all of the force of her formidable willpower. 

What mattered was that they learned from the punishments she assigned them. What mattered was that the girls would learn control before an accident became irreversible. What mattered was that she would teach her students to be better than her. Whether or not they liked her did not enter into that equation.

And so she remained unyielding, as strict and rigid as her name implied, as ordered and controlled as her hair in its tight bun. 

Ada had once said that she felt each member of the staff played an important, different, role. She had not elaborated further, and, as they were alone at the time, Hecate had allowed herself to indulge in her curiosity and ask Ada what her role was, according to the headmistress’ theory. 

The answer had been rather a surprise to Hecate. “You’re their protector, Hecate. I can emphasize with them, and lead them, but you’re the one who patrols the corridors at two in the morning just in case.” 

It was far too kind a title, in Hecate’s opinion, but even she could not deny that there was a grain of truth to it. She did try to protect the girls, would always try to protect the girls from their own mistakes, and from any outside dangers. The best way to make sure no one was endangered was, of course, to make sure that each and every rule was followed at all times.

Her students, however unconsciously, realized that as well. When something dangerous got a bit out of hand, they ran to her to fix it. However much terror she brought to them when they were breaking the rules, in any truly dangerous situation they would look to her for help.

Miss Hardbroom had two goals as a teacher. To teach her students to the very best of her ability, and to keep her students safe at all costs.

Hecate Hardbroom was not a beloved teacher.  
She didn’t have to be one, either.


End file.
